


A Good, Swift Kick

by Devilc



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Feminist Themes, Gen, Laundrylist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roberta Roberts knows how to deliver one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good, Swift Kick

**Author's Note:**

> Assumes that you have see 2x06, 'cause otherwise you won't know who the hell Bobbi Roberts is.

Bobbi Roberts is both pissed and relieved when she hears that Eric Taylor got the Athletic Director job. She's pissed because two other women have already applied for the job, one of them the girl's basketball coach, and were told that they didn't meet the requirements, which apparently involve having a prick.

(A woman Athletic Director. Heaven forbid! Somebody motivated and competent might get the job.)

But there's relief there, too, because her girls, they talk.

Some of them have brothers or boyfriends on the football team, and Eric Taylor's sudden trip to TMU aside, the man seems to care about his players. Bobbi's heard mention of Coach Taylor dropping by people's houses, or taking extra time to help a player. LaTanya, Smash's sister, mentioned Coach Taylor being wicked pissed at her brother about _something_  what, nobody would say  but that Coach Taylor made it his personal project to set her brother right.

A few of them also talked about Tami Taylor and _raved_ about how cool she was. That she _listened_ and didn't lecture you or judge you, or if she did lecture you, it was only after she'd heard you out, and then she'd actually give some good advice.

Bobbi's seen Tami a time or two in the teacher's lounge. They don't exactly cross paths, being that Bobbi's only a part time Coach (and for a girl's sport, to boot) and Tami's the full time Counselor, but Tami Taylor doesn't seem like a woman who'd put up with a chauvinist pig. Bobbi may be wrong, but she also suspects that Tami has a finely tuned bullshit detector.

So that gives her a bit of hope that maybe, _just maybe_ she can get something done, finally. That Coach Taylor will listen and _get it_. Because so far ~~nobody~~ no _man_ in the athletic department has.

Bobbi's a little surprised when she finds an envelope with her name on it sitting on her desk. Coach Taylor has somewhat angular handwriting that takes her a minute or two to decipher.

He needs an inventory of her equipment and its condition so that he can figure out what needs immediate replacement and what needs to be put on a time table before he can order more for her.

Also, he asked why there wasn't a phone in her office  the tiny former storage closet she shares with four other coaches. Hell, her desk isn't even _her_ desk. She shares it with Glynnis Oliver, the golf coach  and it turns out it's because it's a former storage closet and doesn't have a phone jack. That also explains why there isn't a computer with a network connection either. He's exploring all options, because yes, the current situation is just not acceptable.

Finally, can she meet with him at 4:30 pm next Tuesday?

~oo(0)oo~

Coach Taylor is completely put out and waspish when she knocks on his door at 4:32 pm. "Yeah?!" he barks, not looking up from a stack of papers and his calculator.

"And a gracious good afternoon to you, too, Coach," Bobbi says with exaggerated sweetness as she sweeps into the room.

He looks up, scowls, indicates a chair, and says, "I'll be with you in just a minute." A second later he groans, "I've got a mountain's worth of paperwork for what I was told was largely an honorary position."

_One they'll never see fit to honor a woman with_, Bobbi thinks darkly. "Actually, that right there is the problem." She hopes she hasn't put too much anger in her voice. "Every other damn _man_ they've ever had in the position has been nothing but a stuffed shirt, especially when it comes to girl's athletics."

He mmms, but is still working on his papers.

"How many of your players go to college, Coach? And of them, how many of them graduate?" Bobbi's on a roll now.

He puts down the pen and blinks at her for a moment. "Well, I don't rightly know. I don't have that number at hand "

Bobbi cuts him off. "Seventy-Five percent of my players go on to some form of higher education. Of those that go to a four-year college, 78% percent of them graduate. And half of my girls wouldn't go to a four-year if it wasn't for the soccer scholarships they receive.

"So top those numbers, Coach Taylor. We may not be state champs, because they don't bother with state championships for girl's soccer, but we've won our division for the last 5 years. Yeah, so, soccer's not much here in Texas, but in other states? They know my girls and they want them. And here I have to bend over backwards to get them a few new balls when they need them  _not even anything expensive like that damn whirlpool tub I saw on the way in_ !" She slams her hand down on the desk. She's shouting now, but it's _years_ of rage she's had to swallow and, God help her, it's coming back up. "Sorry," she says after she draws in a long, shaky breath. "It's just that it's been too damn long. Too. Damn. Long."

He leans back in his chair, takes a long deep breath of his own and says, "I ordered you three more balls like you asked. They'll be here on Friday. Even the football team doesn't get equipment overnighted ." He lifts his hat and scrubs a hand through his hair before replacing it. "I tried to see if there was some way to just go down to Big 5 and buy them, but ... the paperwork involved is more trouble than I can believe."

Bobbi blinks at the news for a few seconds. Ideally, it would be five new balls, but she doesn't have much in the way of storage space. "Thank you." _For doing this quickly. For taking me and my program at least a little bit seriously_.

He pushes back from his desk and says, "I'm going to go crazy if I sit in here a minute longer. Let's go take a walk."

They end up sitting way up in the cheap seats of the bleachers. Below them, on an immaculate field of grass, two boys are practicing tackles. One's clearly teaching the other. Coach steeples his hands and studies them for a moment. "Two of my long term projects down there."

Her girls play on a field out on the back forty that's got some seriously mangy grass. She tells him this.

He shrugs. "That's groundskeeping."

"No, it's a sexist double standard. Your football field would never be allowed to have huge brown patches in it and look awful."

He steeples his hands again. "Who else uses your field?"

"Right now, just us, but in spring, some of the track and field people practice on it, too."

"Alright. I'll see what can be done to spruce it up right now, maybe an airing out and some fertilizer or something. But, I'll tell you now, if it needs a thatch and re-seeding? That's going to have to wait until school ends, so that it can have a chance to take over the summer."

"I'm not going to let this slide, Coach."

He shifts and sits back. "Neither am I."

Bobbi crosses her arms and looks at him. He seems to be on the right track, but talk is cheap.

He meets her gaze for a long moment then says, "I have two daughters, Coach Roberts. Julie's ... " he smiles. "Julie's all artsy-fartsy and into dance; she's a good swimmer, too, just not interested in trying out for the team. But little Gracie? Who knows? She might be the one who's into sports. I know I'm never going to have a football player, but she might like soccer, and if she does, she should have a good field to play on, a field the whole school can be proud of, and she should have all the balls she can kick."

Bobbi declines to point out that that last bit about kicking balls probably sounds a bit different than he meant it to  in a manner of speaking. And, that a lifetime spent kicking a soccer ball from about soon as she could run came in handy when she title-nined her way onto her high school's football team as the placekicker/punter  yessir, Roberta Roberts lettered in football  and right now she's got about four girls on her squad that could probably put it through the uprights a hell of a lot more often and from a hell of a lot farther out than whatever boy he's got doing it.

But all in good time. Right now, Bobbi's just happy she'll have enough working equipment to run skills drills during practice and tryouts.


End file.
